


Rise of the Honey Badger

by Phantazmagoria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, House Rivalry, Hufflepuff, Inter-House Relationships, M/M, MWPP Era, Sorting Ceremony, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantazmagoria/pseuds/Phantazmagoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1975 and Dean Winchester is entering his fifth year at Hogwarts. Between keeping an eye out for his newly sorted brother Sammy and dealing with his own somewhat embarrassing crush on the very inconveniently male Ravenclaw prefect, Dean has a lot on his plate. Then he goes and finds a way to piss off the Marauders and unintentionally sparks an inter-house war with the Gryffindors. One thing is for certain; he would definitely take hunting down Ghouls over being a teenager any day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sorting Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress because I have no idea where I should be going with it. I will say that comments help me with creativity, so if there is any interest in reading more, I will probably be able to write more faster if I have some comments to prod me along. Just saying... :) Enjoy!

Dean Winchester had never been more terrified in his life. At fifteen years old, he liked to think that he'd had a lot of experiences to draw from, but none of them made his stomach twist and his palms sweat quite as much as they were doing now. 

When his mother had died and his house had burned to cinders, he hadn't been scared, not really. His father had handed his baby brother to him and told him to get out and that's what he had done, carrying his precious burden to safety as fast as his little four year old legs could carry him. 

When he had first learned that dark creatures really did exist, he might have been a bit concerned, but who wouldn't be when they found out that the shadows under the bed really could take their face off if given the right opportunity. His dad had taught him how to shoot a gun the very next day. He was six at the time, but being able to shatter six bottles dead center from ten meters with a revolver almost too big for him to handle the recoil... well, that made everything that goes bump in the night a little less terrifying. 

When he had nearly gotten his brother killed by a Shtriga, he could have been terrified, but he was mostly angry. He was angry at himself for causing the situation, angry at his dad for using them as bait, angry at himself for leaving Sam alone, angry at his dad for leaving THEM alone... Yeah, there was a lot of anger, but really not as much terror. 

When he was eleven and his whole world had changed, he was again deeply concerned. A letter had arrived for him, addressed not only to the motel they had been staying at, but even more specifically to the leftmost bed which he had claimed for his own use while their dad was out tracking down the ghoul nest that had brought them to town. Of course, he'd thought it was a joke. How could it not have been? Yes, there were plenty of monsters, werewolves, poltergeists, ghosts, demons, reapers, wraiths... and he believed in every single one of them... but, seriously, magic? He had torn the letter up. But another one arrived the next day. He had doused it in salt and burned it. More letters came. He had been starting to think that he had run afoul of some sort of insane postal demon when an imposing woman with a tightly drawn bun and a Scottish accent had appeared on the door step and proceeded to transform his twelve-gauge pump action shotgun into a feather duster. He supposed she was within her rights, because he had been very quick to have it pointed straight at her face and if he'd had the power to do so, he might have reacted the same way. What followed was a very tense few hours with the imposing Scottish woman glaring at him from across the room where she sat in an uncomfortable motel chair while he faced her dilligently from his seat on an uncomfortable motel bed with his brother safely behind him and his hand wrapped tightly around a rod of iron rebar that he kept for the rare occasions when ammo didn't seem like it would work. He had no doubt that the woman could have changed his rebar just as easily as she had changed his shotgun, but after being splashed full in the face with holy water, she had seemed to decide that his attempts at defending and repelling were only going to escalate and so they had declared a bit of a grudging truce while they sat waiting for John Winchester to return to break the stalemate. 

So, again, not terrified, just very suspicious and determined not to allow any harm to come to his brother, Sam. Even after the explanation that magic DID in fact exist, and there were certain people who could actually make use of that power and that Dean himself was one of those people... well, it wasn't scary, just a bit distressing that he was being sent away to a boarding school across the world where he would be completely incapable of looking out for Sammy. He almost refused on principle, citing all of the responsibilities that he had to his family, that it was his job to watch Sammy and that he was the one who took care of their dad after really bad hunts; there were just too many reasons why he had to stay with his family... but then John Winchester had looked Dean dead in the eye and told him in no uncertain terms that taking that opportunity, that going to school and learning to use MAGIC, was the most important thing he could do to protect the family. He was to go to school, do his best, learn everything there was about killing every evil thing in the world, so that when he was home, he would be able to use that knowledge, that POWER, to help his dad hunt down the dark creatures that preyed on innocent people. After all, how much easier would it be to torch corpses if he didn't have to carry around lighter fluid with him?

He hadn't been scared to come to Hogwarts. Just determined. And he hadn't been scared at his own sorting, just terribly hyper aware of everyone and everything in the room. And he hadn't been scared of being sorted into Hufflepuff house, because really, who the HELL would be scared of anything named Hufflepuff? But sitting here at his house table, waiting for his little brother Sammy to be sorted... Yeah, Dean was terrified out of his wits. His stomach was twisting and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. There was an uncomfortable banging in his chest that had to be his heart hammering out a crazy staccato rhythm that echoed with the painful pounding in his head. 

For the first time in fifteen years, Dean Winchester was really, uncomfortably scared. 

AND it just figured that as a Winchester, Sammy would be the last to be sorted, which meant that Dean had plenty of time to worry about all the ways that this moment was going to effect his brother's life. Or rather, his own, since he was bound and determined to make certain his brother was taken care of regardless of what house he ended up in. It was just a matter of how much looking out he would be forced to do. 

Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat, turning his attention to the house the caused him the most concern. He had to strain his neck to see the Gryffindors across the room, loud, raucus, brash, CRAZY Gryffindors... The Sorting Hat liked to call them brave and noble, but they were the house that charged into EVERYTHING without thinking. On a hunt, that was the quickest way to get an entire hunting party killed. Every hunter that lasted longer than their first time out either knew going in, or learned very quickly and very painfully, that you didn't just storm in with guns blazing. You had to do the research. You had to gather the data and all the facts of the case and you had to know what it was that you were hunting so you could know for a certainty how exactly you were going to kill it. One of the things that humans (Dean still couldn't bring himself to call anything a Muggle, out loud OR in his head) had over wizards was that they couldn't just wave a magic wand and expect it to solve all of their problems. Hunters needed to plan in order to survive and from what he could see, no Gryffindor in the history of Hogwarts had ever heard of cause and consequence and therefore had never bothered to learn how to give consideration to their actions and so was never able to come up with anything resembling a working plan that didn't involve vast amounts of crazy stupid. In fact, the batch of Gryffindors that shared a year with him, the Marauders, tended to spend more time in detention than they did in class. Dean always thought that if they spent even half the amount of time developing their exit strategy as they did suffering the fallout, they would probably never be caught in the midst of their pranks in the first place. Dean had never really had a problem with the Marauders. Hell, he laughed at their pranks just as much as anyone did and he had a grudging admiration for their tenacity... But the thought of his brother Sammy being in the same house... being influenced by them, maybe even looking up to them as examples of what and how to be.... THAT was a sickening thought. He chewed his lip as a new member of Gryffindor was welcomed to their table by the fifth year prefect, Remus Lupin. Lupin wasn't a bad sort. It wouldn't be ideal, but if Sammy WAS sorted into Gryffindor, maybe Dean could have some words with Lupin and they could come to some sort of understanding. Lupin as an individual was calm and studious, rather quiet. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible if he was keeping an eye on his little brother.

Ideally, Sam would be made a Hufflepuff and Dean could keep an eye on him himself, but he knew realistically that that wouldn't happen. Sammy just didn't have the temperament. There hadn't been a single hunt they'd been on together where Sammy had just done as he was told without asking question after question. He had never had Dean's philosophy of just shut up and do it. He never understood that if he would just quit complaining and do the work that was necessary, that it would get done that much faster. When Dad gave an order, Dean obeyed immediately. Sam always had to ask why, always had to argue... Yeah, there was no way that Sam would ever be a Hufflepuff. As silly as the name had sounded, there were some qualities to the house that Dean couldn't deny having a fondness for; hard work, discipline, loyalty... The Sorting Hat had been quite adamant that he was a Hufflepuff regardless of his own self-image as a rebel with a 'give-em-hell' attitude. He didn't think of himself as particularly kind or caring, but he couldn't help noticing that when the younger 'Puffs needed a big brother, he was the one that they came to. Family was important to Dean and his House had become his family away from home. He always did his best to protect them from the shennanigans of the other Houses. So, when he had begged to be a Gryffindor because he knew he was brave (seriously, how many other eleven year olds could stand their ground against a banshee), the Sorting Hat had refused. When he'd countered by at least asking to be made a Slytherin, because he thought he was rather resourceful and could think his way out of tight situations, the Hat was simply not to be swayed. He didn't even try to make himself a case for Ravenclaw, so he had puffed out his chest and sauntered over to the Hufflepuff table as if he hadn't a care in the world. So what if it was a stupid name. Dean would still be the bravest and most damned cunning hunter at the table, regardless of the label. Looking back on it now, it only galled him a little that the Sorting Hat had been right about him. And in all honesty, badgers could have some pretty nasty tempers, so maybe the image wasn't all that bad. Still, he had never, EVER told any of his human acquaintances that he was a Hufflepuff. As far as Dad knew, he was in the Badger Dorm and that was an end of it. 

More names were called and Dean had to struggle not to tear his hair out. They had only just gotten to 'G' and he was not going to survive the stress if they didn't hurry up and get through it. He ran his hand through his spiky hair, not caring that it looked mussed and a bit bedraggled; his hair was supposed to look like that. It was edgy and rebellious, not like the neat and slicked back hair of the 'good kids' and definitely not the long, shaggy manes of the 'hipster kids'. Dean had his own style. 

He huffed out a breath, almost amused by his own nervous anxiety and turned his attention to the Ravenclaw table. Sammy would be a great Ravenclaw. He had been reading books far beyond his age level since before Dean could remember. He was smart as a whip and more educated than Dean could ever hope to be. Four years younger, and he was definitely the smart one in the family. If they hadn't been born into hunting, Dean could easily have imagined Sammy getting a full scholarship to Stanford or Yale, or any of the other Ivy Leaguers anywhere in the world. His baby brother was just that smart. He would definitely make a good Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw wouldn't be a bad house for him, either. In fact, it was probably the best option. He didn't really know many of the Ravenclaws personally; they tended to keep to themselves and while none of them were really antagonistic, they didn't always understand Dean's sense of humor or about ninety percent of the things that he was interested in. He remembered having a conversation once with the new Ravenclaw prefect, a boy named Castiel Milton. He wasn't certain which of them had walked away more confused by the exchange. He couldn't remember what exactly the question had been, but when Castiel had responded that the answer could best be explained by a series of partial differential equations, Dean had quickly panicked and retreated to a safer corner of the castle. Still, he seemed like a decent guy and there was no denying that he was bright even if he did take everything that was said to him in it's most literal sense. A simple 'Hey, how's your day going?' was likely to be answered with 'In a linear fashion, chronoligically measured by the common standard of time.' Which didn't make him a bad guy, but if Dean was going to ask him to look out for his baby brother, he would have to be very careful with how he phrased the request. Dean chewed on his lip, watching Milton at the next table over. There was something about him that was just fascinating and Dean couldn't help himself from staring every time the boy caught his attention. He was just so STILL. Every other person in the great hall was fidgeting and moving and engaging in some sort of motion, consciously or unconsciously, but Castiel Milton could sit still longer than any other human being that Dean had encountered. Both feet on floor, hands folded carefully in his lap, black hair mussed even more wildly than Dean's, almost as if he'd never seen a comb in his life, blue eyes wide and intense and focused and not even THEY were moving... Milton could stare at a person like it was a sport and he was the undefeated grand champion of the world. While Milton stared at the world around him, Dean found himself more times than not just watching Milton. It was a guilty pleasure. And if Sammy was in Ravenclaw, then Dean would have more opportunities to speak with the Ravenclaw prefect about things that weren't so complicatedly academic that Dean wanted to cry. It would be easier to strike up a conversation about how his brother was doing and go from there than it ever had been trying to casually ask about a book Milton was reading or an assignment for a class they shared. A simple conversation with Castiel Milton was something that he could look forward to.

Finally, FINALLY, Sammy was sitting on the chair with the Sorting Hat on his head and Dean was just allowing himself to breath a sigh of relief, having decided in his head that Sammy was going to be in Ravenclaw and everything was alright... when the Hat called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Dean swallowed hard as the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

Well. That had certainly been unexpected. 

Alright, so Dean would have been lying if he had said that he was entirely, one hundred percent OK with Sam being in Slytherin. It was one thing for Dean to be the outcast with a chip on his shoulder, the rebel without a cause... but for Sammy? The thought of Sammy alone in a room full of Slytherins made his stomach twist. He had to force himself to eat and to not spend the entire feast shooting worried looks at the Slytherin table, trying to gauge his brother's reaction to his sorting. More than that, he was trying to get a read on the Slytherin prefect. Unlike Lupin and Milton, Dean had almost no reason to notice the greasy-haired boy that looked just as unhappy and put-upon as Dean was feeling just then. He didn't have any classes with the Slytherin that he could recall, and he felt a bit sheepish that he'd spent five years in the same school with him and couldn't even recall with absolute certainty what his damned name was. His Dad would be ashamed of him if he knew how unobservant he'd been. 

Still, there was time to correct that and correct that he would. As soon as they were dismissed for the night, Dean was on his feet and sneaking through the throng of people until he could grab the Slytherin by the arm to get his attention. He was met with cold black eyes that were a little too deep set over his awkwardly large nose. And if looks could kill, Dean's heart would be freezing in his chest. The dark eyes glanced down at the hand on his sleeve and then back up to narrow disdainfully when they met Dean's gaze. 

Dean swallowed and released his grip, wondering if the boy was so disdainful of his touch because he was a Hufflepuff or if it was because he was human. He had an uncomfortable awareness of just how prejudiced some of the snakes could be at times. But, hell, for all he knew it could have been because he was an American. Who could ever say for a certainty why a Slytherin got their panties in a twist?

Dean grinned, plastering on his most charming smile, the one that never, EVER failed to get him laid. "Hey there, uh..." Dean sorta wished that he at least knew the prefect's name. "...er, Simon? Right?" 

Black eyes blinked slowly at him and for a moment Dean thought that a full-scale wizard duel was about to be declared in the middle of the Great Hall, but then the other boy's chin tilted up and those beady eyes were glaring at him from down the side of that almost ridiculous nose of his. "It's Severus, actually, but I suppose for a Hufflepuff, getting the first letter right could be considered quite an accomplishment. You should speak to a professor about getting house points for the achievement." 

Dean just smiled wider. He had to respect a person who could come out with both guns blazing like that. "Well, you know us Hufflepuffs. Gotta get started on those points right away to have a decent shot at fourth place." 

Evidently, the self-deprecating humor was the correct route to take because some of the ice seemed to crack a little and the boy chuffed a breath that could ALMOST have been a laugh.

Dean grinned, congratulating himself on a minor conquest. "Right, then. Severus. Can I talk to you for a second?" 

"If it will facillitate the removal of your presence, then by all means. Talk."

"Right, so..." Dean shifted his weight on his feet, trying to read the Slytherin and failing miserably. He was usually good at reading people, about knowing what to say to play into their trust and get them to like him, to trust him. It was an important skill for a hunter. But reading Severus was like trying to see through a brick wall. Damned beady black eyes and stony gargoyle-like expressionless face. Dean sighed, uncomfortable that he was essentially taking this conversation blind. "So, uh... My little brother Sammy, well..." 

Severus raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking him to get to the point. 

Dean shifted again. "Right, so my brother, Sammy, was just sorted into your House, and you know... As his big brother, it's sort of my job to worry about him... You know, make sure he's doing his homework and not staying up reading East German philosophy at all hours of the night... And..." Dean grit his teeth, wishing he knew more about who he was talking to, hating that he didn't. "And I just want to make sure that somebody's looking out for him, you know, watching his back. I can't really do that from over in the Hufflepuff dorm and well... I guess I was just wondering if I could trust you... To look out for him when I can't." 

At that, both of the Slytherin's dark eyebrows shot up, nearly to his hairline. If Dean had thought that the boy was impossible to read before when he had no expression on his face but haughty self-importance, it was almost worse with the rapid fluxuations of emotion that he was contending with now. Dean struggled to keep up with picking them out; eyes widened in surprise, brow furrowed in confusion, mouth twitching into something unreadable that quickly shifted to narrow-eyed suspicion... then anger? Severus' voice was brittle and harsh, "What are you playing at? Did THEY put you up to this?" 

Dean frowned, his own suspicion starting to trigger at the crazy way that Severus was scanning the crowd of migrating students, apparently trying to catch a glimps of somebody in the weaving throng. Dean frowned and twisted his head to see what the Slytherin was looking for, but quickly gave up and asked instead, "Did WHO put me up to this? And why would they?"

Severus frowned and gave up his own crowd search in order to peer suspiciously at Dean, his entire demeanor flinty with sharp edges. "You should beware; I do not take kindly to being mocked... Least of all by a..." Sneer. "...Hufflepuff..." He glared as he leaned forward in a manner that would have been intimidating to a normal Hufflepuff. After all, the boy was fairly tall and even though he seemed quite skinny, he could make his robes puff out and billow in a way that would give any comic book villain a run for their money. His voice had dropped to a venomous hiss, spit from between his clenched teeth. "It's bad enough those bloody Gryffindors... Now they're enlisting bloody HUFFLEPUFFS to harass me too?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Dean wasn't all that short himself and he knew that physically, he could probably snap the other kid in half. Being a hunter had taught him plenty about keeping himself fit. Playing on the Quidditch Team as a beater for the better part of the last three years had only encouraged him to maintain his physique. He wasn't at all intimidated, but he knew enough about human nature to know that allowing Severus to THINK that he was intimidated might be more beneficial to his cause just now, so he took a step back and slumped his shoulders a bit, allowing his posture to weaken. "Look, I'm not trying to harass anybody..."

Severus's face was white and his hands were curled into tight fists and Dean glanced back along the direction that the other boy had been looking with sudden clarity. 

Dean raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, the Gryffindors have nothing to do with this, so take a breath and relax. This is me, Dean Winchester, asking you to look out for my brother, Sammy. Sammy the Slytherin. See? No lions involved, just a manly exchange between us snakes and badgers here. It's my brother that we're talking about. Why would the Gryffindors care if I ask you to look out for my brother?"

After a few moments of fragile tension, the Slytherin took a breath and seemed to relax the merest fraction of a bit. "As if being seen associating with Hufflepuffs is any better than being accosted by Gryffindors."

Dean shrugged, not to be cowed. "Well, like I said, I need somebody to look out for my brother and if I can't trust you to do it, then I'll have to do it myself. Can you just imagine what people will say about having a Hufflepuff camping outside your dungeon?"

Severus blinked. "You can't be serious."

"I'll even make sure to wear my bunny slippers and dinosaur pajamas and you'll have to step over my snoring, cuddly self every night and every morning for the next three years. I might even bring some 'puffy decorations to make it feel more like home. A few plants, a badger or two, a bit of yellow to brighten the dungeons up a little."

"What an absolutely revolting thought." Severus rolled his eyes, heaving out a put-upon sigh. "Very well, if it will save us all from being inflicted with you, I will promise to look after your brother. You said his name was Sam?"

Dean couldn't help but smile his gratitude. "Right. Sam Winchester."

The boy turned to go, but glanced sideways back at the Hufflepuff. "I shouldn't have to remind you that Slytherins do look out for their own regardless."

And it was true, really, the snakes WERE a pretty tight knit group. "Not to sound like a dick, but I couldn't just trust a Slytherin to protect my baby brother." Severus began to tense up and Dean lifted his chin. "But you? I think I can trust you. I mean, you're not just a Slytherin, right? You're Severus. I can trust a Severus to look after Sammy for me." 

Dean couldn't read the expression on Severus's face, before the boy turned with a billow of his black robe and began striding towards the entrance of the great hall, barking out a sharp, "Slytherin first years! Follow me!"

Dean couldn't help noticing that Sam was trying to avoid him but he still managed to snag him around the neck as he passed to give his floppy blond hair an affectionate ruffle. Sammy twisted and squirmed his way out of the headlock and tried to straighten his hair while glaring daggers at him. 

"Come on, man, could you BE any more obnoxious?"

Dean grinned, watching his brother walk away. "Bitch!"

Sammy turned back momentarily, calling over his shoulder, "Jerk!"

Dean laughed. His brother would be okay and he would still get to harass him on occasion throughout the day. Everything was going to be fine. It was only then, after watching all the little snakes file out after their prefect that he realized that he had his own prefect duties to attend to. With a last glance at his brother's retreating back, he made his way back over to the Hufflepuff table, shaking out his arms to get his blood flow pumping. His little Hufflepuff cubs deserved to have a great first night in Hogwarts and it was his job as a prefect to get the school year started off right. Fortunately for the little badgerlets, he was a Hufflepuff that knew how to party. 

"Alright, kids! Who's ready to see the coolest dorm in the castle?"


	2. The Library Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow =) Not even up for a full twenty four hours and I had a comment and a dozen kudos and yeah, you guys kinda made my day a little bit! ^_^ As promised, I shall work hard at the next chapter while you folks read this one. Unfortunately, this is all that I have written right this moment, so further updates will be a little slower in coming. Comments help me type faster, though ;) Enjoy!

Dean gave it a week. It was only polite, after all, and he didn't want to make a pest of himself. And it helped that he got a chance to see Sammy at mealtimes and sometimes in between classes in the hallway (although, he would deny taking the long way around to some of his classes just to make sure their paths intersected). So, he gave it a week before he hunted down Severus Snape to interrogate him on how his brother was settling into the Slytherin dormitory. He had even been good about not pestering the boy when he saw him at the first prefect meeting of the year when the duty schedule was divided up amongst them. He had been good during the week, but now Dean Winchester was on a mission.

He hefted his bag higher up on his shoulder as he poked his head into the library. It wasn't a place that he would willingly find himself very often, but he had it on good authority that the Slytherin prefect could be found there most nights between dinner and curfew. Taking a fortifying breath, Dean sauntered into the library as if he had every right in the world to be there. Which he did, really. It was stupid to be intimidated by a library. It just made him uncomfortable. He was perfectly capable of studying if he needed to, but it was just a fact of life that Dean was and always would be much more comfortable doing his research where nobody could watch him. 

Not willing to analyze his own sense of inadequacy, Dean made a beeline across the library, glancing between aisles and stacks of books and deliberately schooling himself to not look lost. He was startled from his search by a deep voice speaking from practically his elbow. "Hello, Dean." 

Dean ground his teeth, swallowing hard to keep back a yelp of surprise. He hated being startled, but when it was Castiel Milton blinking up at him with his gigantic blue eyes, it was very, VERY difficult for him to show an appropriate amount of disgruntlement. Dean swallowed and wobbled between a grimace and a half-smile. "Uh, hey there, Cas. Didn't see you there."

The Ravenclaw blinked slowly. "We were practicing disillusionment charms. It would be somewhat contrary to purpose if you had seen me here."

And just like that... Dean's mouth went dry, his palms went sweaty, butterflies in his stomach and the whole obnoxious shebang. He had a well-earned reputation as a bit of a Huffle-whore, but none of the clandestine rendezvous or the casual trysts that he had engaged in had ever made him feel that fluttery, jittery nonsense that he had mocked his year-mates over. 

The fact that he was feeling that way now after a mere two sentence exchange with the Ravenclaw boy that he had NOT been obsessing about for the last few years... There was only one conclusion that Dean could come to; he was rapidly turning into a thirteen year old girl. Son of a bitch.

He smiled wide and shifted his feet. "Yeah, that's a good point." Smooth. Real smooth. He sorta wished the ground would swallow him whole.

A sharp cough overlaying a snicker drew his attention to the other side of the small study table. Severus Snape. Just who he was looking for. The boy's head was tilted down and his greasy hair was hanging down in front of his face, but it didn't really disguise the amused sneer on his face. 

Dean grinned. "Severus! Just the man I wanted to see." He slung his bag down and slid into the seat next to Castiel and across the table from the Slytherin. It wasn't... WASN'T because he thought sitting next to a certain blue-eyed Ravenclaw might give him an opportunity to accidentally bump, slide, brush against him in anyway. Because, really, he wasn't THAT pathetic. Honest. 

Severus raised a dark eyebrow, grumbling, "I am not doing your homework for you."

Dean coughed into his hand to hide a smile, but it was Cas that spoke. "Dean is perfectly capable of completing his own homework. He is actually much smarter than he would have most people believe..." Blue eyes flicked back down to the text that was open in front of him. "... in spite of his tendency towards more physical pursuits and his unfortunate and fluctuating taste in women."

Dean blushed. He didn't think that he COULD blush, but he felt it burning all the way up to his ears. "Erm, yeah..." He coughed hard again, clearing his throat to hide his embarrassment. He wasn't sure if it was the thought that Castiel had been watching him close enough to know about his grades or the thought that he'd seen Dean with enough of the female population to have an opinion on his dating habits. He honestly hadn't realized that Castiel had paid that close attention to him. The thought was strangely... comforting... at the same time that it made him extremely uncomfortable. 

He ducked his head and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off whatever crazy thing it was that was distracting him so badly. Damned blue eyes and crazy beautiful sex hair. "So! Severus! I just wanted to touch base with you and see how my baby brother is settling in."

Severus sighed and closed the text that he was reading, sliding it out of the way and folding his hands in front of them on the table. "What do I have to say to make you go away?" 

Castiel gave Severus a look that was clearly a 'Behave or I'm leaving' look if ever Dean had seen one. And that was almost an entirely new set of uncomfortable feelings. How close did you have to be to somebody to be able to pull off that sort of silent communication? He wished he was that close with somebody... In spite of his status as one of the more popular guys in his house, about the only person he was really close to was his brother, and to be truthful, they hadn't been all that close since Dean had left for school. 

It wasn't that he was jealous of the look that Severus returned to Castiel or the silent way that he seemed to acquiesce to whatever it was that Castiel was silently requesting. As far as he knew, they didn't teach Telepathy on the curriculum, so whatever silent speak thing they had going on with each other was just because they were really close friends and he MIGHT have been a bit jealous of that... maybe... If only he could say one complete, thoughtful sentence to Castiel without stuttering and looking like a complete idiot because he was distracted by those high cheekbones and the perfect pink lips that rarely seemed to smile, but when they did it was like getting shocked in the balls with lightning because DAMN and the worst thing about it was that Dean wasn't even GAY and his palms were sweaty for the guy and his gorgeous fucking sex hair...

Dean cleared his throat again, trying to force his mind back onto the relevant topic. "Well, the thing is, I have this strange sort of social disease. You see, the more you try to get rid of me, the harder I cling and the longer I stay. I'm a little like genital herpes that way. So if you REALLY wanted to get me out of your hair, you would just tell me how my brother's doing."

"Your brother is fine. In fact, I would go so far as to say that he's even remarkably self-sufficient."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? And? Is he making friends? Is he settling in?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "He seems to be?"

"You say that like you don't know for sure."

"Because I don't know for sure. I haven't made it my life's work to follow the first years around all week. Holding hands and wiping noses isn't in my job description as a prefect as you well know." 

"Dude, I'm not asking you to hold his hand, I just want..."

Severus glared. "I have, however, made it very clear to anyone that required telling that he is not to be harassed solely on the merit of his blood status."

"Oh. Um. Thank you."

Severus scowled and leaned forward a bit, dark eyes narrowing in a half-sneer. "Listen, Huff Puff, I'll let you in on a bit of a secret. Regardless of what the rest of the school believes, Slytherins don't just skulk about in the dungeons performing dark rituals and blood sacrifices, alright? Yes, there are a few wizards in my dorm that I wouldn't be caught in a dark alley with, but I can name just as many nasty buggers from each and every other house, including yours! I don't take kindly to your derogatory assumptions that a child would find himself bloodied and abused merely because he was sorted into my house!"

Castiel didn't look up from the text in front of him. He merely turned a page and kept reading while he spoke, "Dean wasn't making aspersions against your house, Severus. He was fully intending to make an ass of himself to whichever prefect was deemed necessary by his brother's placement. I daresay he was hoping Sam would be in Ravenclaw so he would have an excuse to pester me about the subject. The fact that you are the prefect of Slytherin makes his association with you merely incidental." He did look up then, blinking his wide blue eyes owlishly at Dean. "What? It wasn't that difficult to notice that you were singling out all of the other prefects during the Sorting Ceremony, Dean." Cas returned his attention to the book. 

Dean blinked. "You were watching me during the Sorting Ceremony?" Cas had been watching him. Castiel Milton had been watching him. 

Cas looked up at him, his eyes clear and innocent. "Of course not. I was paying attention."

Dean blinked, struggling to get his mind working fast enough to determine what the difference was between watching and paying attention, but he was saved by Severus, quiet and matter of fact. "Alright, Winchester. Surprisingly enough, I do actually wish to set your mind at ease, so I will tell you the things that would set MY mind at ease in your position. A Slytherin survives by his utility, be it political connections, wealth, family... whatever. But a Slytherin with tangible skills... that's a far superior thing to be, because while family can be disgraced and wealth can be spent, the ability to be skillful, to be USEFUL to those with wealth and power... well, that doesn't go away. From what little interaction that I've had with him, I can already tell that Samuel is very smart and very capable. There are quite a few of his year mates who will find him useful and therefore well worth protecting."

Dean listened, gaze sharp on Severus' face to attempt to discern if there was any subtext that was being spoken just under the surface of what was being said. "Wait a minute, useful? Useful to who?" He didn't like how that phrase made him substitute in the word 'used'. 

Severus shrugged. "I don't know. Just useful." There was a hint of chill in the words, not enough to be blatant, but enough to convey that there was something uncomfortable about the subject. Dean wondered what it was. Had Severus found protection in being useful to somebody? Had he needed protection? Had he been used somehow?

"I, uh... I gotta say, that doesn't really make me feel better, Sevvy."

"Do NOT call me Sevvy."

"Alright. Severino?"

"No."

Castiel chuckled softly, turning a page. "Severus is particular about altered versions of his name, particularly when they are employed by strangers. I'm sure that once he's comfortable with the fact that you have no wish to slight him, he will be more amenable to the use of affectionate nicknames."

Dean blanched. Severus ruffled.

"Affectionate nicknames? I am not nor have I ever been amenable to affectionate nicknames!"

Castiel continued to read, unperturbed. "Nonsense. You let Lily Evans call you 'Sev' and have never once made an objection to it."

Severus deflated a little bit, grumbling petulantly. "That's different."

Cas smiled. "It's different because she's your friend, Severus."

"That isn't the subject under debate."

"It is. Or are you suggesting that you WOULD have a problem if I were to call you Sev?"

Dean propped his elbow on the table and set his chin in his palm so he could hide his smile while he watched the exchange. 

"But you DON'T call me Sev, therefore you are extrapolating that I would or wouldn't have a problem with a set of entirely theoretical circumstances! That makes the entire argument moot."

Castiel grinned and Dean's heart thumped sadly in his chest, elated that he could see the Ravenclaw smile and yet thoroughly miserable that the smile wasn't for him. 

"It's a fairly easy hypothesis to test, Sev."

Severus bristled and flexed his jaw but said nothing and pulled his text back in front of him. Dean couldn't help letting out a delighted laugh to match Castiel's pleased smirk. 

"I think he's got you by the short and curlies, dude."

Severus glared balefully at Dean for a moment before visibly deflating a bit. He repositioned the book in front of him, grumbling to himself, "...pick a fight with a bloody Ravenclaw..."

Cas smiled and Dean laughed. He knew it was time to make his escape, but he didn't actually want to. "Well, I guess I'd better -" 

He was cut off by the loud slam of a large book hitting the table. "Snivellus! I thought I told you to keep your greasy paws off my girlfriend!"

Dean couldn't help rolling his shoulders when he looked up. A challenge was a challenge, even if it wasn't aimed at him, and loosening his body for a fight was a habit too far ingrained in him to ever change. James Potter was angry enough to spit nails and Sirius Black was next to him, smugly pleased, clearly enjoying the prospect of a confrontation. Peter Pettigrew was just as excited, for all that he stood back just out of range if things happened to get violent. Remus Lupin stood even further back, uncomfortably glancing left and right down the stacks, either looking for an escape route or keeping an eye out for interrupting teachers. Severus had hunched his shoulders forward and up, protecting his neck from potential threat. It was a defensive gesture that looked just as ingrained in the Slytherin boy as preparing for battle was in Dean... except Severus was preparing himself to get beaten, like an abused dog. His mind flashed back to their first conversation just after the sorting ceremony, and the anger and suspicion... the not quite indiscernible relief when Severus had decided that Dean HADN'T been sent to speak to him by the Gryffindors... 

"Forgive me, Potter," Severus practically spat the name, "I hadn't realized you and Black were going steady, now, but regardless, I wouldn't touch him with gloves on."

Black slammed his hands on the table, and Severus flinched. Lupin did too, Dean was interested to note. "Don't make me vomit, Snivellus... there isn't enough soap in the world to get clean after being touched by a greaseball like you."

Potter straightened, pushing his glasses up his nose in a manner that should have been completely geeky, but somehow managed to be another scare tactic. "Evans is off limits to you, Snape. Don't force me to remind you again." 

Dean had to struggle not to laugh. He didn't scare easily. In fact... "Evans... Evans...Why does that name sound familiar? Oh, wait! Isn't that the Gryffindor chick that plays for the Slytherin team?"

All the attention at the table turned to focus on Dean. It was almost as if everyone had forgotten he'd been sitting there. 

Potter fixed him with a chilly glare. "And just what do you know about it, Hufflewhore?"

Dean laughed. "I know she is one feisty piece of tail. Dude, just the sounds she made! Prettiest pair of green satin panties... Damn but you could bounce a quarter off that ass, couldn't you? I hate to say it Potter, but I heard she hates guys with glasses. They just lack that vitality she likes, but hey, I guess that's why she hangs out with snakes, right?"

It was hard to tell who was more ready to throw down the gauntlet over the words he'd said, but he risked a sly wink in Severus' direction as he leaned his chair back, balancing on the back two legs.

Potter's face twisted, looking for all the world as if he'd just swallowed his tongue and was trying not to choke on it. It was Cas that spoke, though. "I think you're mistaken Dean. You might have Lily Evans confused with one of your conquests. She's actually quite a demure young lady from what interaction that I've had with her, but you are correct. She does tend to associate with Slytherins of the non-optically challenged variety."

Dean snorted, smirking up at Potter. "Dude, you just got called optically challenged! By Cas! That's hilarious!"

Potter's face had only just managed to turn red with fury before Black had circled the table to grab Dean by the collar of his school robe. He had only just to do much else before Dean twisted and slid his leg under him, using the other to shove the precariously balanced chair up and forward to jab the lags straight into Black's belly. Dean had already done the math on this conflict. Pettigrew was worthless and Lupin wouldn't fight. Potter was all bluster and cockiness; he was no threat to Dean, at least not physically. It was Black he had to focus on. Black may have been taller and heavier than Dean, and perhaps could over power him eventually in a toe to toe punching match, but Dean was a brawler and would be damned to hell if he let anybody take him down without some severe internal bleeding. 

Black snarled and rubbed his belly, backing off to give himself space while he reassessed the new factor in the 'Baiting Severus' game. Dean smiled and blew him a kiss. Black leaped forward, aiming a right hook to the side of Dean's face even while colored light flashed at him from the tip of Potter's wand. A silvery shield bloomed up to cover him even while he grabbed Black's wrist and used the momentum from his own punch to throw him sideways and into the bookcase behind them. He couldn't spare a moment to laugh at the tumble of books that crashed down on Black's head. He dragged his wand from the quick-draw holster on his wrist and whipped it at Potter, shouting, "Salis Surculus!"

He knew first hand how much it hurt to get hit by a shotgun blast full of rock salt. Not lethal but painful enough to take you down for at least a few hours. Shooting a concentrated blast of salt from a wand was one of the first things he'd taught himself to do. He didn't understand the fascination the other kids had with hexes and jinxes. Bat boogies and jellylegs were nothing compared to taking an opponent down with good, old-fashioned, debilitating pain. AND it wasn't against the rules.

Potter went down with a scream and by the flailing and yelping, he could tell that he'd gotten Pettigrew as well. He turned quickly, training his wand back on Black who was just now lurching to his feet. 

"Unless you want a face full of pain, Black, I suggest you take your buddies and low tail it out of here."

Black glared at him, then glanced over at Lupin for help. The Gryffindor prefect had his wand out, but there was a pleading look in his eyes. "Please, Siri, I'm a prefect now... I shouldn't be involved in this..."

Dean tilted his head. "Oh! And that's another thing! Twenty points from Gryffindor for causing a commotion in the library. Interrupting the quiet study environment or whatever that shit is."

Black curled his hand into a fist and stepped forward, but Dean stood his ground. "Yeah? Maybe I should make it fifty!" Black was livid and the tension in the room was almost enough to wade through. Dean didn't make a move and neither did Castiel who had stepped up beside him, the light of a shielding charm still pulsing steadily from the tip of his wand. The only sound was that of Potter coughing and gasping in pain. Finally Black lowered his fist with a glare and moved to help his friend to his feet. 

Potter leaned heavily against Black. His glasses were skewed and he was clutching his chest. "Don't think that we'll forgive you for this, Winchester... You and your Hufflepuffs had better watch yourselves." 

Dean laughed. "Is that a threat? Cause I'm pretty sure I can take points away for that, too..." He turned to look at the Ravenclaw prefect beside him. "Can't I?"

Castiel nodded. "I think it falls under showing disrespect for positions of authority. You could also give detentions for that."

Potter glared at Pettigrew and Lupin. "Aren't you even going to do anything?"

Lupin huffed a sigh. "Such as what, Jamie? No matter what I say or do, two prefects just watched you pick a fight with the third. Baiting Slytherins is one thing but not even McGonagall will back you if it's three houses to one."

Dean didn't think there was much to be said to that, but Potter and Black still gave him dirty looks as they passed, clearly chalking it up as a betrayal regardless of how valid Lupin's argument was. After three of the four Marauders disappeared around the shelves, Lupin looked at Severus, opened his mouth to say something but closed it again with a despondent sigh, as if deciding that no words would ever be enough to express what he felt he needed to say.

It was to Dean that he finally turned. "I don't... I don't condone it, or anything..." Then he turned to leave without another sound. 

There were pages and pages of words that Dean could have called Lupin as he left, but it seemed to be too much effort. Either Lupin didn't understand that that sort of bullying was wrong or he didn't care and nothing Dean could say or do would change it. He almost would have called him a coward if the hat hadn't put him in Gryffindor. But then again, Dean tended to have very high standards when it came to labeling a person as 'brave'. He was brave. His dad was brave. His Uncle Bobby and a hundred other hunters out there. 

Dean righted his chair and sat down. "Well, that was fun."

Castiel frowned, sliding his wand back into a pocket in his robe. "I'm not certain I understand your definition of 'fun'."

"It's, uh... You know... nevermind." Castiel looked even more sexable when he was puzzled about something and Dean didn't think he could survive even a few more seconds of seeing those eyebrows drawn down over the squinted blue eyes and slightly wrinkled nose... Damn. 

Dean turned to say something to Severus just to give himself a way to stop looking at Castiel. "Severu..." The boy hadn't moved from his seat, but he was white and shaking. "Sev? Hey, there..." 

The Slytherin flinched when Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "Sev? You alright?"

Severus shook his head slowly, but his eyes were blank and unfocused. 

Dean knelt by the chair. "Hey, if this is about what I was saying about Evans, you know I didn't mean any of it, I was just..."

"Why? Why would you do that?"

Dean was taken aback for a moment. "Do what? I was just trying to piss that jerk wad off. It didn't mean anything."

"Didn't mean anything? You... You stood up for me... That..." He dropped his head, obscuring his face with his hair. 

Dean wasn't sure what to say to that, his mind struggling to resolve all of the contradictory, disjointed puzzle pieces that made up Severus Snape. He knew what he would say to his little badgers if one of them had come to him with the same hang-dog expression, the same doubts of self-worth weighing them down, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how he was supposed to say the same thing to an otherwise proud and fiercely self-reliant Slytherin. 

It was Castiel that saved him from his struggles, "It's okay, Severus. Dean is just channeling his inner honey badger. Craziness and irrational decisions based on perceived threats and territoriality are only to be expected."

"Honey badger?" Dean frowned. "The hell is a honey badger?"

Castiel turned his wide unblinking eyes towards Dean and his features were almost completely blank save for the vague hint of an amused smile. "One of the most fearsome creatures known to man. Ironically enough, they've been known, on occasion, to single handedly take on a pride of lions when provoked."

Dean sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, well, provoked or not, this honey badger just declared all out war on the damned lions and I somehow doubt they're going to take it well." Dean dropped his head, hands clutching at his hair. It was far too early in the school year for the House wars to start and Dean's interference had probably earned the Hufflepuffs a front row seat to the proceedings. "I should probably go... I need to warn the rest of my house to keep an eye out and watch their backs, just in case." 

Severus still hadn't recovered enough from whatever shock induced trance he'd fallen into, but Castiel smiled at him, just a little twitch of his lips, but it was enough of a smile and maybe that made all this trouble worth it.


	3. A Call to Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you everyone for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! I'm very happy that you are all enjoying it so far! 
> 
> A quick warning, getting into Dean's headspace in this chapter kinda made me swear a lot while I was writing, which is strange because he doesn't actually swear that much on the television show... So yeah, a bit of bullying and a bit of swearing in this one. Hope you all like it!

The rest of the weekend passed and then the next week. Dean didn't go out of his way to find Severus and Castiel, but managed to keep running into them all the same. He somehow found himself sharing a workbench with Castiel in Potions and sitting close enough to trade risqué pictograms with the quick witted Severus made Ancient Runes surprisingly more educational; Dean never would have been able to memorize the Sidhe Binding charm if Severus hadn't pointed out that turning it sideways and adding a squiggle or two made it look remarkably like two fairies doing the hot and nasty on a kitchen table.

Dean even began to find himself taking lunch, occasionally, at the Slytherin table so he could fling peas at Sammy without having to launch them up and over half of the Great Hall to do it. He also liked to tease him about his rabbit food and see how many pieces of bacon he could stack on a single cheeseburger before Sammy rolled his eyes in disgust and complained about his arteries hardening just from the proximity. Severus raised an eyebrow at him the first time he caught the Hufflepuff strutting over to the first year end of the table, but he didn't say anything against it. In fact, the next day when Dean did it again, Severus grabbed his textbook and left his spot in the middle of the long table to come down to the end to join them. Dean had a moment of anxiousness when Professor Slughorn stopped by to investigate the addition of a Hufflepuff at the Slytherin table. The moment passed when Severus introduced Dean as Sam's older brother. Dean smiled pleasantly through several minutes of Slughorn waxing poetic about what a wonderful student his brother was and how fortunate he was to have such a bright prodigy in Slytherin. In all honesty, Dean didn't mind at all. He would always be the first on board the Sammy Bandwagon and listening to their teacher praising all the things about his brother that Dean already knew wasn't a hardship. 

After Slughorn walked away, Dean didn't even try to hide his smirk. "The Slug Club? Sam, really?"

Sammy sighed dramatically, stabbing a fork into his salad. "It's nothing, don't be such a jerk."

Dean grinned around a mouthful of cheeseburger. "Bitch." 

Cas slid onto the bench next to Dean. "Dogs, female or otherwise, are prohibited on the school grounds. I don't believe you could have seen one just now."

Dean blinked in surprise before the confusion took over, "Huh? What does..."

Severus rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "It's a bloody invasion..." 

Sammy chuckled, shaking his head. "Awesome, Cas!" 

Wide blue eyes blinked owlishly. "What is?"

Dean groaned. It wasn't fair for one person to be so freakishly adorable. He was screwed. He patted the Ravenclaw's shoulder. "You are, Cas. You're always awesome."

Cas blinked again, then his eyes crinkled up as he smiled and Dean's chest fluttered uncomfortably. He was so horribly screwed. He took another bite of his cheeseburger and tried to pretend the world wasn't out to get him.

* * *

Some days, of course, were harder than others. Those were days that Dean started to appreciate how difficult Herbology could be. Until now, he'd always considered it one of those classes where you showed up and got a passing grade as long as you didn't kill yourself or your bench partner. Even causing non-lasting damage usually still garnered a pass. And he didn't really dislike it as much as he would pretend that he did. Wizard magic may have been ninety percent about the wand waving, but Hunter magic, the kind that protected people from monsters, usually involved mixing together some pretty interesting herbs. He could name about twelve that he would love to have in an herb garden of his own if he were ever in a position to settle down. The trouble with Hunting was that you moved too far, too fast. Herb gardens were for civilians. Still, he thought it was useful enough information to pay attention to. The only thing he was actually starting to hate about it was that Herbology was a class that Hufflepuffs shared with Gryffindors. 

They didn't even have the decency to begin with subtle forms of harassment, either. The very first day that Dean had an inkling that the Marauders were out to punish him was the day they coated the inside of his work gloves with fertilizer. Then there was the Stinkweed that managed to find a home in his book bag. Not to mention the rather painful experience of the Briarthorns when his watering can had been mysteriously dosed with some sort of rapid growth potion; he was lucky that he hadn't been blinded before he could extract himself from the prickly mess. 

The day they were scheduled to study Sex Pollen, Dean just decided to cut his losses and just play hooky. He could take the hit to his grade. Spending a day faking an illness in the Hospital wing under Madame Pomfrey's disapproving gaze was bound to be better than waiting to see what the Gryffindors had planned for him. 

He trudged into the Hospital wing with the most dejected and pitiful expression he could manage. He didn't have quite the Puppy Dog Eyes that Sammy did, but he could look pathetic enough to garner some sympathy if he wanted to. 

"Madame Pomfrey? Madame Pomfrey, I'm feeling - "

"You're feeling perfectly healthy, Dean Winchester." The matron strode out of her office carrying a bottle and a cup to one of the beds. It was currently occupied by one of the first year Hufflepuffs, Hariet Smith, white faced and teary eyed, cradling her arm. "But I am glad you're here. You can take Miss Smith back to the dormitory after I mend her arm." 

"Ouch..." Dean could feel his Big Brother instincts twitching as he walked closer and sat on the bed opposite. "How'd you do that?"

The little Hufflepuff sniffled. "A Gryffindor shoved at me and I fell off my broom."

Dean felt his jaw pop. He hadn't realized he'd started clenching it so hard. Madame Pomfrey tapped him lightly on the head to get his attention. "Stop fuming, Mr. Winchester. It was just an accident. I'm sure no one meant for her to get hurt. Now, you, Miss Smith, drink this down.." Madame Pomfrey handed the cup that she'd filled from the bottle to the first year. The poor girl did as she was told, not skimping on a drop even though she looked a little paler and quite a bit more green when she was finished. Pomfrey took the cup and bottle and returned to the office. 

Dean leaned forward, lowering his voice a bit. "Hariet, why did the Gryffindor shove you off your broom?" 

The little girl's lip trembled and she looked quickly towards the office to make certain they were alone. "None of them like us. He said we needed to learn our place again. I don't even know why, we haven't done anything to them... I've only ever been nice to everyone." She blinked and the tears threatened to overflow. 

Dean quickly moved from the opposite bed to a spot right next to her so he could wrap his arm gently around her, Big Brother instinct kicking into emergency overdrive. "Hey, it's ok. You didn't do anything to deserve getting hurt like that. It's not your fault so don't even think it, alright?" No, it was Dean's fault that his little badgerlets were getting hurt. If he hadn't stood up to those damned assholes in the library... "But, I'll tell you what: it stops now. From now on, if anybody, Gryffindor, pixie, jabberwocky or whatever... if ANYBODY treats you or any of the other first years with anything less than respect, I'm gonna hunt them down and beat some manners into them. You got that?" 

Hariet nodded and nuzzled closer to him, wrapping him in a one-armed hug. It was probably the only thing keeping him from storming out of the Hospital Wing to find the little shit who did this and hang him upside down off the Astronomy Tower. Making his own life miserable was one thing, and he could grit his teeth and take it like a man, but if the Marauders had goaded the rest of their house into fucking with his first years, there was going to be serious retribution in the near future. 

When Madame Pomfrey returned, Dean quickly slid out of the way so she would have room to wrap Hariet's arm in a sling. She was right, the break would be practically healed by the time they walked back to the dorm and it would be good as new before breakfast; the sling was just for comfort's sake. Still, it wasn't the severity that had Dean thirsting for blood, it was the fact that it had happened at all. A broken arm could just as easily be a broken neck from the right height and shit like this only ever escalated. He was damned if he was going to let his younger housemates get hurt though. If the Marauders wanted a fight, he'd be happy to give it to them. 

Dean was still fuming an hour later after he'd settled Hariet into the Hufflepuff burrow with a promise to send the House Elves down with some extra hearty Kitchen Sink Stew to make her feel better and more dessert than she would know what to do with.

He was caught up in his plans for retaliation and the figure that loomed in front of him caught him off guard. Before he could think of what he was doing, his hunter training kicked in and he had the figure's arm twisted up behind him to the breaking point while the rest of him was pinned flat to the floor with a knee to the spine, just enough pressure to keep him down, but not enough to break him... yet.

Dean growled, "Well, this is a pleasant surprise, but I'm not sure I have anything to say to you, Lupin."

A pained gasp was his reply and Dean, feeling a twinge of mercy at least if not actually guilt, eased up just enough pressure on the man's arm and back to make the conversation less tortuous.

"Winchester, please... Sorry... Just wanted to talk..."

"You can talk from down there, can't you?"

The boy winced and gasped again, shaking his head in tiny movements. "Please..."

To be fair, Lupin WAS paler than he should be with enough hint of green to make him look sick and Dean knew the position had to hurt... Reluctantly, Dean sighed and hauled the Gryffindor to his feet, shoving him just a bit to put some distance between them in case the other boy turned to attack.

"Okay? So talk."

Lupin turned to face Dean, rubbing his arm with an almost pitiful expression of entreaty on his face. "Look, I'm just... I'm sorry about what they're doing to you, I am... it's just... "

Dean laughed bitterly. "You're sorry about what they're doing to ME? Fuck, man, get your damned priorities in order. I can take care of myself." Dean flexed his jaw, the anger that hadn't yet managed to tame down rising again like a flash flood. "I had to explain to an eleven year old girl that her classmates didn't actually hate her or think that she wasn't nice enough or kind enough. That she didn't DO anything to deserve it. They just broke her arm and laughed at her for crying about it because your fucking friends have a bone to pick with me. And all because I wouldn't let them bully some other defenseless kid! Explain to me in terms I can understand how that is supposed to be worthy of Gryffindor. The damned Sorting Hat keeps saying you people are supposed to be noble and brave. Because, I gotta tell you, Lupin, I look at your house and all I see is a bunch of bullies picking on kids for no reason at all. It can't be to feel better about yourselves, for the achievement of winning, because it's never a fair fight, is it? It's always three or four of you against an opponent who is usually at such a disadvantage when you catch them, they'd be hard pressed to even take on one of you."

Lupin shook his head quickly, "I agree with you about the little girl, that shouldn't have happened, but if you're talking about Snape, he always gives as good as he gets..."

"And he's practically a headcase for it! Do you know what Shell Shock is? PTSD?" At Lupin's blank look, Dean growled, "Of course you don't, you're a fucking wizard... Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My uncle Bobby explained it to me one day. You see, my Dad was a Marine. He's a soldier, one of the best, and he's had it ever since he got back from Korea. It's this thing you get when you're in constant fear for your life. It makes you twitchy, you know? Jumpy. Constantly waiting for the enemy to jump out and kill you. I think it's a little sickening that I can see the same symptoms in a fifteen year old kid that I could in my Dad, who survived YEARS of being bombed and shot at and all kinds of other horrific shit that I can't even begin to imagine. You think Severus gets that twitchy because of shit that happens to him at home or shit that happens to him here?"

Lupin at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "There's nothing I can do to stop it."

Dean nodded. "Fair enough. You're too chicken shit to get your hands dirty. I guess I can understand that if I pretend real hard that I'm a spineless insect with slime nodes where my balls should be. But here's something you CAN do. You give them a message for me. The bullying ends now. If any of you Gryffindors put a toe out of line when it comes to my Hufflepuffs, I will bite back and I will bite hard. I have it on good authority that honey badgers have some sharp fucking teeth."

He wasn't particularly pleased with the threat, but he wasn't sure how to make it much better, so he gave Lupin as threatening a once over as he could manage before pushing past him to make his way to Charms class.


	4. An Unexpected Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let me say that I am so sorry that I have abandoned you dear readers for so long! Second, thank you so much to those of you who have enjoyed, commented, and left kudos. I can't believe that it's been a year and a half since I've updated this. In that time, I've had a baby AND celebrated his first birthday. I've quit my career in the air force to become a full time student and stay-at-home mom and you would think that I would have all the time in the world to write for pleasure (not the case at all, lol!). But, I think that I'm in a place, now, where I can write with some degree of stability, so I will make a tentative promise not to go so long between chapter updates again (of course, I can post one chapter a year and still keep that promise, I'm sorry I'm such a horrible fic poster). 
> 
> A quick disclaimer: I feel like my style has completely changed since I started writing this chapter. It makes re-reading it very difficult, because I want to change things that I think are silly now and I completely forgot where I was going with some other things. That being said, I really hope it lives up to expectations and that those of you who have been wonderful enough to not give up on this story enjoy it enough to make it worth the wait. 
> 
> Too long, didn't read version: I love you all, thank you for sticking with me, I promise not to take so long on the next update. Enjoy!
> 
> -Phantaz

Dean was itching for a fight. He glowered at every Gryffindor that he could lay eyes on, hoping that one of them would give him an excuse to snap and start distributing pain with extreme prejudice. Unfortunately, since issuing his warning to Lupin only the week before, the Gryffindors had backed off and begun to play nice again. 

His brother Sammy had even noticed his attitude and begun to call him out on it. 

"Come on, Dean. Could you just drop it? Please?"

Dean blinked, a bite of pie halfway to his mouth. "Huh?"

"You've been staring at the Gryffindor table all lunch period. It's starting to get old."

Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled around the mouthful, "Your face is old."

"Dude, you're just... Ugh!" 

Sam looked well and truly disgusted and Dean couldn't help but smirk at his accomplishment. He glanced over at Severus who was also staring at the Gryffindor table. "So, what's got your goat?"

Severus glanced at him, "Nothing." He continued to scrutinize the far table. "Lupin's missing again."

Sure enough, the boy in question wasn't at the Gryffindor table. Dean chewed slowly. "Huh..." It was unusual, but not exactly noteworthy. "It's probably just a cold or something. It's been going around the Hufflepuff dorm." 

"Merlin save us from Hufflepuffs with sniffles..."

Dean shot a grin towards Severus. "As if Slytherins with sneezes are any better. On the other hand at least they have the alliteration thing going for them." 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Alliteration? Really? I thought you were better than that."

Dean shook his head. "Nah, cause then you can take it a step further and you've got Gryffindors with gonorrhea. Who can resist that?" 

Severus had to struggle not to smile, shaking his head as he returned his attention to the book he was studying. Dean counted it as a victory. The table thumped when Castiel sat down, face drawn and pale. 

"Cas? What's up, man?" 

Cas huffed out an angry breath and rolled his eyes. "The ceiling, Dean."

"No, I mean, what's got your feathers ruffled?" 

Castiel flinched and stared down at the table, his ears and cheeks tinged with pink. "Wha-what makes you think that I have feathers?"

"Nothing Cas, it's just an expression." Dean frowned, worry for the Ravenclaw drowning out all his other cares. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing is wrong."

Severus and Dean traded looks. Severus closed his book. Dean pushed aside his pie and folded his hands. They both looked at Castiel and waited patiently.

Cas stared at them both before finally slumping his shoulders in defeat. "Nothing's wrong, it's just... Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is grossly misinformed and I think that our assignment this week is asinine and poorly developed. His opinions are biased and his viewpoints reflect a very narrow-minded bigotry concerning beings of alternate origins."

Dean blinked. "Come again?"

Cas pulled his notebook out. "We're supposed to be learning about defense against winged beasts this month and he wants us to write an essay about veela - veela! - and whether it would be more appropriate to compare them to harpies or sirens."

Dean couldn't help being puzzled. It sounded like any other sort of assignment to him, but he looked over at Severus for help and the Slytherin boy only shrugged. Dean fidgeted. "Not to, uh, sound like a complete dumbass or anything, but what's a veela?"

Castiel twitched his shoulders and dropped his gaze to the table. "Perhaps you should ask Professor Assbut. He's the one who added them to the 'winged beasts' curriculum." Cas quickly shoved his notebook back into his bag and made to stand. 

Dean reached across the table to grab his arm before he could move away. "Aww, come on, Cas, don't be that way." He winced. "I'm asking because I really don't know and if you don't tell me, I'm not gonna know any better, am I?" 

Castiel shrugged and tugged his arm free, skulking out of the Great Hall without a look back. Dean blinked in confusion, watching him go. “Aw, come on! I was just asking!” He glared at Sam who was giving him a pitying look. “What? Got something to say, too, short stuff?”

Sam shook his head. “It’s just sad, really. And how come you don’t know about veela? Castiel said it was part of your Dark Arts curriculum and that’s always been your favorite subject. It should be in your textbook, shouldn’t it?”

Dean blushed, shoulders hunching up defensively. “Yeah, well, just because I’m good at it, doesn’t mean I read ahead or anything. I leave that kind of thing to you smart kids.”

Sam rolled his eyes, grumbling while he stabbed at his salad. “Wish you wouldn’t do that…”

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down like that. If you applied yourself, you would —”

“Hey! I apply myself plenty! Don’t I, Severus?”

Severus sighed, opening up his book again. “If you’re looking for someone to grant you permission to muddle along in passable obscurity, you’re barking up the wrong house. We strive for greatness in Slytherin, remember?”

Dean tossed his fork down. “You know what? Screw you, too!” He stood and slung his bag onto his shoulder. “Just because I don’t know what a damned veela is doesn’t mean I’m not damned good at what I DO know. I’d like to see any of you field strip an automatic faster than I can or compression test a car engine. Not all the things worth knowing come with a neat little letter that you can show off. And my grades are just FINE, thanks!” 

He walked away from the Slytherin table, partly regretting that he’d stormed off without finishing his lunch. If he was being honest with himself, he would admit that his stomach was too twisted up to have been able to eat much more anyway. He’d never argued with Cas before, not even on the Quidditch pitch, and the encounter left a funny taste in his mouth. The fact that his brother thought that he was just skating through his education was another bitter pill to swallow, but what did Sam know about it? Dean wasn’t a bad student. He’d never be as brilliant at the theory and coursework as Sam was making himself out to be, but if there was a lesson he could even passably relate to hunting, he knocked it out of the park. He wasn’t a bad student, but he was a great hunter and he helped his dad save lives. He’d been training to be a hunter since he was six years old and he was good at it. So what if he had never heard of one lousy monster. There were hundreds of thousands of them out there and he had a basic understanding of how to kill most of them. He was fairly certain that nobody, not Dad or Uncle Bobby, knew what a veela was. Where did Sam get off thinking that he didn’t apply himself or that he was just mediocre at schoolwork? He didn’t spend his free time reading ahead in the book because he could follow along much better in the classroom, but that didn’t give any of them, not Severus, not Cas, not even Sam, the right to look down on him for not doing more. 

Dean was twitchy and upset all through his next period and slipped a note to the female prefect, asking if she wanted to meet him out behind the greenhouses for a bit of stress relief after classes were over for the day. The anticipation of a thorough and enjoyable make out session with a girl as pretty and sweet as Helen Marshall was enough to take his mind off of Cas’s bad mood and Sam’s judgement and Severus’s condemnation.

He MIGHT have taken extra notes in Defense Against the Dark Arts when the Hufflepuffs had their turn with it, but the extra attention he paid had nothing to do with anything Cas had said. It just turned out that winged monsters were very interesting and warranted very good notes. It had nothing to do with wanting to know what had put that look on Castiel’s face at lunchtime. 

And he absolutely was not still thinking about it later that night when he was waiting by the greenhouses, watching the sun sink down behind the forest. He could already see the moon, bright and large, low in the dusky sky. Dean grinned. The baby ‘Puffs were going to have a field day in Astrology that night. The first years had just started on lunar cycles; the first labwork on a full moon was an exciting time every year. Dean had already arranged to have some warm pasties delivered to the common room for the little badgers to grab before trekking up to the Astronomy Tower and some hot chocolate and scotch eggs for a quick snack after they got back. Dean knew from experience, even before becoming a prefect, that if somebody didn’t take the time to dose the little buggers with sleeping draught, they would be bouncing off the walls until the sun came up and then he would have to deal with cranky little badgerlettes all the next day. 

Dean's grin fell away as the moon got a little higher and Helen Marshall still hadn’t showed. Surprisingly, being stood up didn’t bother him as much as he thought it should. It would have been nice to be exchanging warm, slow kisses and soft caresses with a sweet, warm girl, but he was just as happy having some alone time as well. That and she hadn’t actually said she could make it, just given him a noncommittal affirmative that meeting up might have been enjoyable. Dean sighed. He was losing his touch. Damned Cas. He was pretty sure it was all the Ravenclaw’s fault. 

“Dean!” Sam gave a relieved huff, coming further into view. “I’ve been looking for you!” 

Dean straightened and shrugged. “Yeah? Well, at least you were able to rule out the library and study hall, right?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Can you be serious? This is important.”

Almost like flipping a switch, Dean was able to shut off his sulky pensiveness. “What’s wrong?”

“Severus is about to do something really stupid.” 

“Yeah?” Dean leaned back against the glass, folding his arms across his chest. “Well, that is his prerogative, I guess. Thought you Slytherins didn’t have time to get yourselves into trouble, you know, being so busy at excelling and all…”

“Dean!” 

“Alright, alright. Fine. What’s going on?”

“After you left, one of the Gryffindors sent a note over. It said that if Severus wants to know where Lupin gets off to, he should show up at the Whomping Willow at moonrise tonight.”

Dean sighed, waiting for his brother to get to the point. 

Sam was practically vibrating with frustration. “Dean! Doesn’t that sound a little suspicious?”

“It sounds a lot suspicious actually. What do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, first I want you to stop being a jerk and get over yourself. Then I want you to, I don’t know, stop him?”

“I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but moonrise was about ten minutes ago. If he was going to go, he’d already be there by now.”

“Yeah, but… can’t you at least go check on him and make sure he doesn’t get himself ambushed or killed?”

“He’s not going to get himself…” He broke off when he saw that Sam’s expression had gone from Exasperated Bitch-face #12 to the Puppy Dog Eyes of Doom. “Dammit. Well…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, so… if he’s already decided to go looking into it, nothing I say is gonna change his mind. But I can follow behind and keep an eye on him if you’d like.”

Sam’s shoulders drooped in relief. “Thanks, Dean. That would - that would be great.” 

Dean used his shoulders to push himself away from the building. He took one last look around, huffing out a sigh. He really should have been more upset about being stood up by a girl. Damned Ravenclaw, ruining his life, one missed hook-up at a time. “Right. I’ll take care of it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sammy.”

“What? Dean! I’m coming with you!”

“No, you’re going back to your dorm. I’m only chasing after one Slytherin tonight, and it’s not going to be you, understand?”

“I’m not a little kid anymore, Dean, I can make my own decisions.”

“Fair enough. But let’s just say that it would… behoove you… to decide to go back to your dorm before I have to decide to do something about it. Capisce?”

Sam huffed, beginning to waver but not quite there yet. “And what if I don’t capisce?” 

Dean tilted his head. “Well… do you remember that time I put N’air in your shampoo?”

Sam grimaced and nodded; it had been a rather traumatizing episode, after all.

“Now just imagine what I can do with a wand and an entire library of spell books at my disposal and nothing but free time.” Dean knew that he had won the moment Sam pulled out Bitch Face number thirteen, the one that said, ‘Dean has a point and there is nothing to be done about it’. “Good. Now go back to your dungeon and, I don’t know, write a dissertation or something.” He reached out and ruffled Sam’s hair as he passed, earning a squawk of indignation and a glare. Dean smiled to himself as he walked. Sam really was a good kid. And Severus was totally going to get an earful for letting the Gryffindors provoke him into traipsing around the grounds on the night of the full moon. 

Not that there was anything all that dangerous out on the grounds. When Dean had first arrived, he’d investigated every bizarre rumor that he’d encountered. There were plenty of ghosts in the castle, but McGonagall had expressly forbid him from exorcising any of them. He wasn't even allowed to take care of the poltergeist in the castle; Dumbledore had made absolutely certain that he was aware that Peeves was a mascot and not to be harmed. There were no actual werewolves in the Forbidden Forest, only a pack of dire wolves that were a little too humanly intelligent to be natural, but they avoided people and weren’t nearly dangerous enough to consider hunting. There wasn’t even a proper haunting at the Shrieking Shack in spite of the preposterous rumors of it being the most haunted building in Britain; there was no ectoplasm, no EMF, and much to Dean’s chagrin, no actual sightings even though he’d spent every night for almost two weeks straight camped out in it.

There was nothing out here that was truly dangerous. Except for the Marauders of course..

And no sooner had he thought that than he saw James Potter hurrying down the hill with an expression of intent. Dean didn't even give him a chance, he whipped up his wand and blasted the Gryffindor ass over tea kettle, smiling with satisfaction at the expression of startled surprise when he went tumbling across the grass. 

"Going somewhere, Potter?" 

He was a little startled to see that it wasn’t angry indignation on James Potter's face when he struggled to right himself, but anxiousness. Maybe even a little bit of fear.

"Winchester, you have to help me stop him!"

"Wait, what? Stop who?"

"Snape! He's going to get killed!" 

Dean shifted, reluctant to let the Marauder up in case the other three were nearby and he'd merely interrupted their ambush. It would just be too humiliating for him to have foiled their trap only to walk straight into it himself. "Care to elaborate?"

"He's... look, there's no time, we have to stop him before he..." Potter got to his feet, grabbing his wand. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I swear to you, I'm not joking about this."

He didn't, actually, look like he was joking. Dean tightened his grip on his wand. "If you are... there will be so much ass kicking in your future." 

Potter didn't wait for more pleasantries, he took off at a run. Dean growled his frustration and ran after him. If the Marauders got the jump on him, it would be embarrassing and probably a little painful, but he would get over it. If Potter was telling the truth and Snape WAS in danger… if something happened and Dean hadn't done what he could to stop it… There wouldn't be any getting over that. 

He followed, eyes out for the other Marauders, trying to pick out shadows as he moved; the sun had dropped behind the mountains and the darkness of night was closing in on them, making it harder to see. One such shadow that loomed up ahead of them was the Whomping Willow. Dean tended to avoid it ever since first year when he'd been dared to run up and touch the trunk. He hadn't made it very far before waking up in the hospital wing with several broken ribs. 

The moon shining down made the large, club like branches shine nearly silver. Dean grit his teeth, anticipating some frantic dodging or some severe pain as they neared, but the branches remained sedate. Dean spared a moment to wonder about his life when he could honestly think that it was weird that he wasn't being attacked by a tree. A moment was all he had time for, Potter was already at the trunk and disappearing under the roots. 

Dean followed behind, muttering curses under his breath. Potter was fast and by the time Dean had climbed down through the gap in the roots, he was already disappearing down the dark tunnel up ahead, the Lumos charm fading quickly the further away he got. "Potter! Son of a bitch..."

Dean cast his own light spell and ran, ducking under roots the looped down from the dirt ceiling and dodging this way and that as the passage twisted ahead of him. He couldn't see Potter anymore and it seemed he'd been running down the passage for miles. He was almost ready to stop and turn back, certain he'd been pranked when he heard a scream up ahead. 

"Son of a..." He sprinted ahead, seeing a light up ahead where the tunnel ended. Another shout and a yell, a crash. Dean burst through into a dusty room, wand ready to lay down cover fire. The slanted walls shuddered as something impacted on the other side of the door and Dean burst through to see James Potter slumped at the floor and Severus struggling out of a pile of broken furniture. That and a werewolf. There was definitely a werewolf standing in the center of the room in all of its short-snouted, tufted-tailed glory and currently advancing on Potter with a vicious snarl. 

Dean shouted to get the beast's attention and lashed out with a stinging hex aimed at its nose. There wasn’t a whole lot of magic that would do anything lasting against a European werewolf, but in Dean’s experience, nothing enjoyed having it’s nose flicked. And it gave him time to pull out a weapon that WOULD be effective; Dean shoved a hand into the deep pocket of his robe to grip the ivory handle of the .45 colt his dad had given him on his tenth birthday. The solid silver rounds he kept in the chamber were more than enough to take down a werewolf from either side of the pond. He straightened his arm, ready to shoot, but before he could pull the trigger, unimaginable pain clamped down on his arms, teeth tearing into flesh and jaws crushing down hard enough to snap the bone. 

Dean would deny screaming until the day he died, but broken bones were always an unpleasant experience, particularly when caused by the jaws of a giant black dog that easily weighed over a hundred pounds. His gun clattered uselessly to the ground and Dean gritted his teeth, free hand balled into a fist that he began pummeling the black dog’s nose with. After three solid hits, it snarled and let go and Dean fell to his knees. His right arm was useless his trembling fingers scrabbling for the gun. He only just managed to snag it before Severus had grabbed him and jerked him to his feet, hauling him towards the exit. Dean blinked, trying to clear his head. His feet were following where his body was being dragged, but his eyes couldn’t leave the bizarre scene behind. The black dog stood between them and the werewolf and a large deer with an enormous rack of antlers was also there. The two of them together were holding the snarling beast back. 

“…The hell…?” 

He didn’t have much more time to stare in befuddlement, Severus was already pulling him into the tunnel. He held the gun as steadily as he could while being dragged backwards into the darkness, maintaining an aggressive defense until long after they could no longer hear the snarls and growls of the werewolf and the gigantic black dog.


	5. A Disappointing Twist

“I wasn’t bit by a werewolf, I was bit by a dog.” Dean was already tired of retelling the story. First to Madame Pomfrey, thenagain to Professor Sprout. Now Professor McGonogall and Dumbledore himself had come to hear the tale and Dean’s patience was a thing of the past.

Professor McGonagall, even in her nightgown, looked about as stern as Dean had ever seen her. “You’ll forgive us for pressing upon a point, Mr. Winchester, but I’m certain that of all the students, you in particular must understand the severity and the potential consequences—“

“Yeah, I get it. Believe me, if I’d gotten bit by the werewolf, my dad would be the first in line to put a silver bullet through my heart and I’d be the first to let him. But it wasn’t the werewolf that bit me, it was the gigantic black dog that was hanging out with him.”

“I fail to understand what a Black Dog would be doing in the company of—“

“No, not a Black Dog!” Dean huffed out an aggrieved sigh. “Just a big… black… just a regular dog that happened to be black.”

McGonagall pursed her lips, eyebrows raised in challenge. “Mr. Winchester. We can all appreciate that you’ve had an unusually exciting night, but that is no excuse to interrupt. Five points from Hufflepuff.”

“Son of a b--”

“And another five points for swearing.”

“Biscuit. I was gonna say ‘son of a biscuit.’”

“Then it will be five points for lying, Mr. Winchester. It astounds me that after five years in my classroom, you think I don’t know better.”

Dean dropped his head back on the pillow, frustration coiling inside him and burning until even his skin felt hot. "Look, the dog doesn't matter." His heart thudded jerkily at the memory of the thing's teeth tearing into his still throbbing arm, but it didn't matter. "I can show you the tunnel under the tree. We can track down the werewolf and take care of it before it has a chance to recover and disappear."

Professor Dumbledore spoke then, "The werewolf will, in fact, be taken care of, Mr. Winchester, however not in the manner that you are suggesting."

"What?"

"Do you remember the conversation we had your first year at Hogwarts?"

Dean chewed his lip. "The one about hunting on school grounds?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "That very one. I'm going to expand that restriction to include the Shrieking Shack and the forest."

Dean could feel the ball of frustration in his gut spike out to stab at the inside of his skin with pins and needles. "You don't… you don't want me to hunt the werewolf?"

Professor Dumbledore looked at him over the half-moon glasses on his nose, a gentle smile at odds with the steel-laden will behind his hard blue eyes.

Dean struggled to sit up. "Wait a minute, you don't want ANYONE to hunt the werewolf?" Dean looked back and forth between McGonagall and Dumbledore, struggling to understand. "There's a legitimately dangerous creature literally a stone's throw away from a school full of children and you're going to just… what? Let it go on its merry way?"

McGonogall's face grew even more pinched. "The safety of the school is the responsibility of the faculty and the board of directors. The last I checked, Mr. Winchester, you were a member of neither."

"But I AM a prefect and the last I checked, the safety and well-being of the younger members of the houses IS the responsibility of the prefects."

“Yes, but only until such a time as a member of the faculty can intercede and assume control of the situation."

"Dean." Dumbledore interrupted, evidently foreseeing the circular possibilities of the argument. "The crux of the matter is this: the werewolf that resides in the shrieking shack is a special case. The faculty is aware of its existence and we feel that it poses no great threat to the students."

"No threat? It attacked—"

"Two students who were not only capable of handling themselves in the situation they found themselves in, but who were also out of their dormitories past curfew, venturing beyond the school boundaries, and trespassing on private property if I'm not mistaken." He gave Dean a hard look and Dean swallowed under the scrutiny. "May I present a hypothetical? If we set aside, for a moment, your role here as a student and assumed that you were able to react without fear of breaking rules or losing house points… would you hunt the ghosts in the castle?"

Dean frowned. "Not…" he hesitated. His father would tell him that all ghosts should be put to rest if possible. Even a ghost that started out with peaceful intentions, the longer it held onto the world, the more likely it would turn vengeful and start killing. But the ghosts at Hogwarts were centuries old. And there was no way he could imagine Professor Binns caring enough about present events to ever bother going vengeful. Or the Fat Friar. The Fat Friar was just _nice_. Far too nice to hunt. Dean dropped his eyes. "No. Not if they didn't harm somebody else first."

"And the centaurs in the forest?"

He suspected he knew where the headmaster was going with this string of questions. His hands curled into fists. "Again, not if they kept to themselves and didn't hurt a human first."

"What if I told you that the werewolf you are so eager to have us destroy had never willingly hurt a soul in his life?"

"That's the point!" Dean looked up and met Dumbledore's gaze. "That's why werewolves are different. They're not rational, they're monsters. All they care about is chomping down on human hearts. It even says so in our text book! Even if this guy has the best of intentions ninety percent of the time, that other ten percent is when people get killed. And I can't risk that happening to any of the kids that I'm responsible for, not if I can prevent it by hunting down a monster."

Dean thought that he'd made a reasonable argument but Dumbledore's shoulders drooped in a disappointed sigh. "I had hoped that you would have learned to be more understanding in your time here, Mr. Winchester. I'm very sorry that I have to do this."

Power rushed through Dean and his extremities tingled uncomfortably before the spell sank into his bones.

"Wh-what… what did you just do?"

"I've cast a geas upon you."

Dean felt himself begin to shake. "You cursed me?"

"No, simply enforced a compulsion. You will not be able to seek out and hunt the werewolf that you encountered tonight, nor will you be able to speak of it to anybody that doesn't already know the secret."

Dean swallowed, his throat thick and dry. His eyes stung and he blinked several times to try to get them to focus correctly. He didn't know what to say or how to react. He didn't know how to feel or what to do. He curled his hands into fists, yelping at the sudden throbbing pain in his injured arm. He stared at the bandages, suddenly bewildered at the injury he'd entirely forgotten about.

Madame Pomfrey returned from her office. "Mr. Winchester?" She looked hard at Dean and then to the professors. "Really, Albus? A geas? If I had known you were going to interrogate and traumatize the poor boy further, I wouldn’t have left you alone with him. Shame on you.” Madame Pomfrey brushed past them to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle and a goblet. “And you, too, Minerva. I half expect this sort of thing from certain people, but I would have thought better of you.” 

Dean was startled when she pressed a cup into his uninjured hand and he blinked up at her. The beverage inside was warm enough that he could feel how cold his fingers had gotten. "Wha—?"

"You should drink that, Mr. Winchester. It will help you feel better." Dean stared down at the liquid, unable to make his muscles move to lift the cup. He flinched when Pomfrey patted him on the shoulder. "Well, go on then, drink up."

At her urging, he was able to bring the cup to his mouth and he drank. Rich, warm chocolate slid down his tongue, followed by the heat of pepper. It startled him when the cup was empty. The drink hadn't been thirst quenching, but something in him had craved it like a glass of water on a hot day. He blinked open his eyes, not even sure when he'd closed them, only to find that Madame Pomfrey had moved on and Professors Dumbledore and McGonogall had left the room. Dean tried to sit up, but his equilibrium seemed off and he only ended up laying back down again. It was funny that he was having the same problem with his eyelids.

#

Dean woke up feeling physically better, but exhausted and uneasy. He’d dreamed several times over of the black dog and white teeth that had torn through his arm like it was made of paper. Except in his dream, the dog had gone for his throat next and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He hadn’t been able to wake up, either. At the part where a normal dream would cut off with him screaming himself awake, the dog dream just started back over from the beginning. Madame Pomfrey’s potion was a wonder for keeping a person asleep, but he wished he’d gotten the dreamless variety.

“Dean?”

Dean’s whole body twitched in surprise, but it was only Sam. He tried to smile. “Hey, bitch-face. Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Sam shrugged, setting his bag at the foot of the bed. “Well, I would be if some jerk hadn’t wound up in the hospital wing.” His smile fell. “What happened to you, man?”

“I was…” His voice seized up even though his lips continued to move. He stopped and blinked. “I was…” Again, he couldn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t know whether to be pissed off or horribly depressed.

“Dean?”

He growled, pressing his closed fists to his eyes hard enough to make himself see flashing colors behind his eyelids. He was tempted to just shut his mouth. If his own teachers didn’t want him to speak, well he could show them just how long he could go without speaking. He hadn’t spoken for ages after their mom had died. He didn’t know how long it had taken him to start speaking, but he was just stubborn enough to break whatever his record was.

“Hey, you need me to get you some water?”

Dean opened his eyes again to see Sam staring at him, wide-eyed with concern. He sighed.

“No, I don’t need water. I need to have this—” His words choked off again, this time with coughs and sputters. It seemed he wouldn’t even be allowed to talk about the spell Dumbledore had cast on him. He had to get the words out. He had to warn Sammy of the danger. He gritted his teeth in frustration.

“Hey. Sammy.”

Sam leaned forward. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, do you remember that one town we went to back in July? That really funky town?”

Dean grinned when he saw the understanding dawn on Sam’s face when he used their code word. Sam knew something was up and it wouldn’t take him long to put the details together.

“The one where Dad…?”

“Yeah. Last night kinda reminded me of that.”

Sam’s face drained of color. “You mean… Were you bit?”

“What? No!” Dean frowned down at his arm. “I mean, well, yeah, obviously, but not by the—“ His throat seized up again and he coughed. “Dammit.” His head thudded back on the pillow. “I was bit by a dog. Just a regular, everyday…” The memory of the flashing white teeth that could have easily ripped through his throat as well as his arm made his skin break out into gooseflesh. “Just a dog. Look, I can’t talk about it, but just… just tell everyone to be careful, okay?”

Sam nodded, but the worried look didn’t go away. If anything, it intensified. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. I’m fine. Madame Pomfrey fixed me up and everything’s fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Yeah, well, your face doesn’t seem fine.”

That earned an eye roll. “Dean.”

“Just drop it, Sammy, okay? I’ll be out of here tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Okay, jerk.”

Dean reached over to ruffle his hair. “Get back to your dungeon, bitch.”

After Sam had gone, Dean lay in bed a long time thinking about white teeth in a black shadow.


End file.
